


We make do.

by Doitsuki



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Altered Mental States, Angst, Crying, Illusions, M/M, Magic, Masturbation, Mirrors, Oneshot, PWP, mindfuckery (slight), wankst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-09
Updated: 2016-10-09
Packaged: 2018-08-20 10:04:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8245214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doitsuki/pseuds/Doitsuki
Summary: Khadgar uses an illusion to make himself look like Medivh. He misses his Master /so much/ and this is the only way he can see him, hear his voice again. Afterwards he is forced to face reality.





	

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by some dank ass discourse on tumblr (khadgar u lonely depraved boi hERE BE THE ANGST)

It was a cold, misty night in Zangarra when Khadgar returned to his tower after a night of unsuccessful raiding. Though he knew the Champion of Azeroth would resurrect in time, it was still harrowing to see them die over and over to the various enemies in Hellfire Citadel. Khadgar had ported himself out before reaching his own demise, and more than a few ghostly adventurers had glared in his direction. Yes, they muttered things, about how much of a shit wizard he was and why they couldn’t just port to Archimonde and whoop his ass. But there was an order to everything and Khadgar was not going to forsake it. Order, the school of magic he most aligned with, now called to him as he ascended the steps of his tall, sturdy tower. Built at the confluence of ley lines and with architecture mirroring Karazhan, it was the only home Khadgar had in Draenor. Sure, he was welcome in the Champion’s garrison, but here he had other magi and they were his people. They knew his history, his temperament, and respected him. Again, as Khadgar considered the members of the Kirin Tor outside, a twinge of arcane energy coursed through his body. It lit his nerves up in tiny flares and then subsided, only to crackle to life seconds after. The Archmage narrowed his eyes, knowing exactly what this was. He’d been unable to cast much during the raid, his spells powerful enough to vaporise enemy and ally alike. As a result, adrenaline coursed through his body fueled by the latent arcane power just waiting to be unleashed. With enough of it stored, as he had now, it began to morph into something else. Something he could not ignore. The primal, raw desire for release.

Khadgar grimaced upon reaching the top floor of the tower where his private quarters were. He didn’t want to do this – it felt very, very good _while_ working to relieve his tension but afterwards… that was what he remembered most. It happened every time. But he would explode in an arcane starburst if he did not treat himself to a wank soon. So, sitting on his bed with purple velvet blankets available to hide his shame, he looked up. There, directly opposite him and floating in place against the wall was a tall mirror. He stared into his own soft blue eyes, the lines of age and fatigue seeming to drag them down his face. He shook his head. Everything was where it needed to be, no scars or broken bones to be seen.

‘ _Simply tired, that’s all. Now… let’s get this over and done with.’_

Khadgar could not         look at himself for long, could not face the old man the world saw the afflicted middle aged mage as. He did his best to appear clean shaven and enthusiastic, but his heart no longer held the will, his mind in tatters. Khadgar found little to marvel at in these years of his life, when he could not save a raid from wiping, when no living being would speak to him unless requiring service, when he had the blood of his Master on his hands…

“Master…” He mouthed the word, closing his eyes. He hung his head and nearly pitched forwards, concentrating on a spell as familiar to him as his own robes. There was always a moment of anguish when he recalled this body, this face, this voice. But it was all he could do to help himself, for no-one else would. When he opened his eyes, he stood tall and straight and looked into the mirror. There he saw Medivh.

Illusions like this were seldom seen among magi, precisely detailing the form of one long passed so as to convince their own relatives that they yet lived. Medivh was always in Khadgar’s thoughts, in his suave remarks and wise teachings. Khadgar remembered it all. The grain of his beard, the light in his eyes, the birdlike mannerisms where sometimes he tilted his head a little too fast and oh, Khadgar adored him… Now he sought to replicate that which he so dearly missed. This illusion changed his blue surcoat into flowing, dark red robes and when he raised his arms in an open gesture, thick fabric draped from his wrists. His confident look abruptly changed into a wide-eyed, mournful gaze. His lips parted as he took in the sight of Medivh, so _real_ that he could almost touch him. Khadgar drifted towards the mirror, reaching out with gentle fingers that caressed the cold surface. Closer he stepped, the sight of his Master’s face filling his field of vision. When he pressed his face against the mirror, his view blurred. Unshed tears glistened in his eyes. A voice in his head chanted.

_This isn’t real. This isn’t real. This isn’t real._

But Khadgar was determined, in the body of Medivh, to do what he needed to. He took a step back from the mirror and gestured as if stroking the cheek of his reflection.

“My dearest Young Trust…” Medivh’s brows drew together with concern. “What is the matter with you?”

Khadgar barely felt his lips moving as he slipped into the well known role. In his mind, with his own voice, he answered.

 _‘I have missed you, Master…’_ The mental image of Khadgar’s own self, projected behind his physical body that resembled Medivh, lowered its head. _‘I went raiding today. We were unsuccessful. I feel… I feel like an absolute failure.’_ He had to be careful. He could not let his emotions show on Medivh’s face. It was difficult, but the Medivh in the mirror appeared kindly as he spoke.

“They have put you through so much. Oh, my poor apprentice. Don’t fret.” Khadgar focussed on Medivh’s face so as not to see his own left hand running down the right side of his body. “You’ll always be my good boy.” Khadgar closed his eyes and shivered at that, the feeling akin to tendrils of energy running through his lungs, arcing against the inside of his chest. How he ached for reassurance. How he ached for love.

“Yes…” said Medivh, softer, his touch growing more sensual as it snuck between the layered front of Khadgar’s robes. “Such a good boy…” Another hand came to tug at Khadgar’s collar, and the Archmage stepped forwards as if bidden by his imaginary, illusory Master. With utmost obedience he did so, feeling his bespelled breeches tighten. One by one, the clasps of his robes were unpicked and he opened his eyes, sight veiled and lips parted. At once he corrected the look on his face, nudging it into a more coy, sneaky expression. In the mirror, Medivh chuckled softly.

“You know you deserve this.” A tantalising view of his broad chest became complete exposure as the robes folded back and crumpled in a pile on the floor. Medivh’s arms were thicker than Khadgar’s, his shoulders more square and figure overall more robust. The long locks of his hair curled about his neck and collarbones, something Khadgar could not feel that added to his perception of Medivh actually _being_ there. Medivh’s bright green eyes flicked down then up again, his smile widening.

“Ooh… you do like what you see, don’t you? How lucky you are, to have me all to yourself.” A strong, steady hand slid down Medivh’s bare torso and went over the bulge in his breeches. “Mm… what’s this?” His gaze grew predatory, despite Khadgar wanting little more than to throw propriety to the side and moan. This tight control that he kept was thoroughly dissociating, and Khadgar was aware of nothing more than the man before him. On emulating him. On _being_ him.

“Young Trust… I daresay you have waited far too long for this. Just by looking at me… hmph.” Medivh shook his head, then slowly unlaced his breeches. He proudly stroked his erection, thicker than Khadgar’s but just as hard. Khadgar imagined himself watching with wide eyes and a hungry, reverent stare. “It affects me too, you know.” said Medivh, squeezing his length with slightly glowing fingers. “Look at you, barely able to control yourself. Close your eyes…” Khadgar did. “…and let me look after you.”

Khadgar took a few steps back, then stumbled onto his bed. It was soft and welcoming just as he’d conjured it to be, and with one hand fingering the collar around his neck he shifted into a more comfortable position. Half on his side, facing the mirror and with legs spread in a tantalising display.

“Yes… that’s it…” Medivh whispered, his voice deep and reverberating through Khadgar’s chest. They spoke as one. “Show me…”

“Ungh..” Khadgar grunted, turning his face and upper body away from the mirror.

“More.” As Medivh demanded, so Khadgar obeyed and quickly cast a ripple of energy down his body that stripped his breeches away. His boots went too and now Khadgar was completely nude, his body still Medivh’s if he chose to look down at it. He parted his lips. “Th-there...” Oh. Medivh did not stutter. But Khadgar could pretend he was awed at the sight of his beloved apprentice so wanton and willing. Khadgar stroked his aching cock, pulses of heady, strong pleasure meeting the clench of his palm.

“Good.” Medivh murmured. “Very good.” Khadgar tugged at his collar, forcing his head up and he licked his lips, lips that felt exactly like his Master’s. “Mnn…”

Between Khadgar’s legs and in the pit of his stomach coiled dark, sensual heat that seemed to teleport to random places in his body, making him twitch. His thighs. His arms. His chest, there his pectoral muscles clenched and he flattened his hand against them. As a jolt of energy shot through his length he let out a feeble moan, mind frantically catching up with a reason why it was plausible for Medivh, here and now, to do so. It could only be that he matched his motions with Khadgar’s, getting off on watching Khadgar react to his presence. It was a curious cycle, one Khadgar did not immediately logic into details as he was trying to keep his passion under wraps. Yet he stroked himself, the quick, jerky motions so warm and tight, they made him feel alive, almost young…

His hold on the spell was slipping. The magical matrix had begun to fragment, as did his resolve to keep quiet while his hand and mind worked overtime. He twisted to the side, stuffing his face into the nearest pillow and groaning heavily. His legs askew, his wrist aching, Khadgar cried for his Master in his own voice as he unleashed an enormous arcane nutblast. It went _everywhere_ , merging with the tower’s own magic and causing the purple wards outside to flare. Panting, Khadgar was wracked by tremors for a good five minutes. He felt utterly boneless (and boner-less), his earlier weariness settling over him like mist. Still on his side with one hand draped over his hipbone, limp against his cock, he opened his eyes. In the mirror he saw himself, and realized that his beloved Master had dissolved along with the rest of the illusion. The guilt came, and with it the voice that not only whispered, it laughed.

_Not real, not real, not real… ahaha~ utterly pathetic. You truly are alone, to stoop so low. Desperate. You defile the memory of the dead. Murderer. You killed him yourself._

Khadgar’s eyes were fixed upon his own face as he watched it contort. The strength had left his arms and he felt the weight of complete desolation pin him where he lay. His brows drew together then his eyelids shut, but not completely, just enough for him to see through the blurry cracks how awful he looked when he wept. Khadgar bent his head towards his chest, sobbing helplessly. Of course Medivh wasn’t real. He was dead. And no matter how many entities Khadgar prayed to, or how many spells he sought to raise his Master from the fabric of time and space, Medivh wasn’t coming back. Every time Khadgar thought of this it hit him with the strength of a brand new discovery. Khadgar was cursed to relive this pain every time after he dared to delude himself. He could not escape his loneliness, not forever, and only half an hour had passed in which Khadgar had treasured the imagined presence of Medivh. Choked, gasping breaths dried his throat and twisted his lungs. He could hardly draw air in without shuddering it back out in strangled rasps. Vaguely he realised he was shaking, and that both hands had come to cover his face despite him barely having the energy to move them. Excessive guilt piled up beside his sorrow, cramming it into the darkest recesses of his mind and melding with repeatedly suppressed emotions. Everything flowed together as a volatile stew in Khadgar’s head. He _shouldn’t still be like this_ , curled in a ball and grieving for the mentor he lost over two decades ago. He had been told _time_ was necessary, but time had long since passed and _still_ his heart ached. And Medivh had only been his mentor in the eyes of the world, perhaps in the Guardian’s eyes too, for Khadgar was quite sure Medivh had never known just how much he had loved him. Still did. Khadgar had never once said a word. And every day he remembered, knew and understood that he would never get the chance. He wailed into his hands, the sound low and grizzled with age. His hair was white and his face deeply lined, yet he cried like a child and hated himself for it.

He did not feel he deserved to express his suffering, yet he held it nonetheless. No-one in the cosmos would understand. And quite frankly, Khadgar believed, down to the deepest depths of his soul…

No-one cared.

**Author's Note:**

> i really wanted to title this Medivh the Masturbatory Aid but er.... didn't quite fit. lol  
> also. still haven't played draenor KEK but I did some LFG HFC transmog runs and had to fly to Zangarra sooooo...
> 
> hit me up with feedbacks if you got em, I don't often write such blatant angst or wanking heeh
> 
> part 2: http://archiveofourown.org/works/8312572


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